They tell me it's all beautiful, but will I ever k
by ExplosiveNoise
Summary: Tokio Hotel: They tell me it's all beautiful, but will I ever know?  -A Bill Story


The crowd was too big and made him feel too small. And he shouldn't have been there in the first place, he didn't care that he needed the "therapy", he didn't wanted to be there. Nor did he want the strike of not belonging as he wove uncomfortably through the crowd. And the longer he had to search, the more and more he got frustrated and upset. He couldn't go. He couldn't bring himself anything that he needed anymore, only what contaminated himself. He had tried music, tried friends, tried family, tried to smile, tried to laugh, tried to go to the "therapy", and all of this would have worked...it did work. Until he couldn't do it anymore, couldn't. It was a fools game.

His knees squshed like jello and became a jumbled up mess. They shook back and forth until he was too bothered by them to stand up any longer. So he slowly made himself plummet to the ground, maybe to end up just getting stomped on. And maybe it was his fault, that all of this was happening...but he wasn't going to fix it even if it was. He didn't want to think about it. He wanted to call it quits again. He was done with _trying _to feel alright. If he was going to do it, he wanted it wanted it to come from the heart, not from a lie.

He was gonna make it real.

But 99% of the time he really didn't feel like this was even his life. He felt cornered with people telling him what to do, what to say, or where to go, and it hurt. It was just too much to try to make more balance and put more of his stress in trying to please people, and it just wasn't happening. Bill couldn't stabilize. Bill couldn't move. He was paralyzed in situations he hated and a mockery of people who didn't understand...or didn't want to. Being caught up in their own misery was enough for them anyways, so Bill didn't purposefully give them his either, only in his songs when he gripped the pencil so hard that it broke.

He was consumed in madness that would probably never end, and if it did, it would only be because it was finally the death of him.

He finally emerged from the ground and shuffled his long legs in a sort of stupid way 'till he could finally get away from the massive crowd. And his decision wasn't clear until he found himself moving in the opposite direction, that he was skipping his "therapy" session, and not caring about it.

Bill cast one last slightly silly smirk in the direction he was supposed to be going and then turned his head away from it all. _Get me away from here._ He thought and skidded his body down a street on which he had never before gone down and then took off his high-heeled shoes which pained his feet from standing on them for most of the day and began to walk on the hard paved sidewalks and roads. Bill liked the feeling, even though it burned him from the sun shining mercilessly on it, it made him feel a little bit better inside, especially to now have some warmth.

His eyes lingered in the spaces that separated him from everyone else and told him again that he didn't belong, but then again, he forced himself to look at the people, boys, girls, men, and women, and tried to see beauty in them, but couldn't no matter how hard he tried. And it made him sad. Maybe he just needed some practice with people? Maybe he just needed to get to know them? Or maybe he just hadn't met the right person yet?

Bill sighed and sat down in the grass, eyes nervously fanning over everything. He swallowed as a tight lump of being out of place turned into a knot inside of his drying throat. Why was everything always so complex? And difficult to describe? Answering was a hard thing, and there was always more to something than words could just tell, because it was one thing to do something and go through it than to just hear about it. And just what would she say when she knew the way he had avoided this? Or how he avoided everything, really...? She'd scold him again, he just knew it! And then the bruises and scars swelled back up inside and he laid down, furrowing his brow, looking up at the sky. He didn't want to go back home. He just wanted to find someone worth talking to, and someone who really, truly, was beautiful, and is beautiful. And stayed beautiful, even when they could not see it in themselves. He would have liked to find someone like that, but doubted it would happen at all.

He closed his eyes.


End file.
